


Never seen the sky like this

by kinpika



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Dark Fantasy, M/M, Mentions of superpowers, more tags will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:07:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3975781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Maybe one day, I'll learn to let go."</i><br/>Ten years is a long time to hold onto something, a subtle lingering fear, whispering things of never achieving greatness, despite promotions and accomplishments and accolades.<br/>In the growing morning sun, Jean holds up an object he could never force himself to throw away, wondering if this was the beginning of the end.<br/><br/><b>ON HOLD</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**meltdown [melt-doun] (noun)**

**1. _Informal._ a sudden loss of control over one’s feelings or behaviour**

 

“With all due respect sir, you want me to do what exactly?”

For Jean, it’s well past bullshit o’clock on his one day off — the first of his recorded history ever, in fact! — when he gets the phone call. At first, he was just going to ignore it. Let people think he died, because there was no way Detective Jean Kirstein was alive today. If the higher ups needed him, they could wait until 5am the next morning for him to make coffee in the staffroom. Jean had even told his coworkers that unless there was a meltdown two streets from his house, assume he was dead to the world.

And he had been, until he forgot to turn off his work phone and it beeped to life. Typical, he had hissed, picking it up between two fingers and considering throwing it against his wall. Except it would come out of his pay check and he didn’t make enough to afford the luxury of breaking a phone.

_“We need you to come down here to get briefed on your next mission.”_

Erwin Smith, a respectable, normally personable man, had a voice that rolled. It commanded attention when required, and inspired the many on the team who nearly gave up. Jean had to admit it held some kind of note there that made you listen and learn. But, he hadn’t had more than four hours sleep in nearly what felt like nearly a year, and he was so close to telling Erwin where to shove his voice and orders.

“But sir, it’s my day off.” Pleading. Jean never pleaded with anything, not with a case, not with the hours, nothing. Ten years kicking his feet around on desk jobs or out in the field, Jean didn’t plead or whine or bargain. Right now, he would get down on his knees and beg if need be.

_“Something has come up and you need to hear it in person.”_

Bastard hangs up on Jean before he can push it further, and he throws the phone on his bed with as much effort as he could. Not a lot, at quarter to three in the morning, but its enough to make him wince and check on it anyway. Honestly, he had only managed to get home close to two hours ago. Only just fallen face first on his pathetic excuse of a mattress, just managed to start dozing, and then

Jean growls, and turns the light on. No, he told himself. He wouldn’t argue (much anyway, and not to those up higher on the chain of command at least). He would do his job as he had been asked, and made sure they paid him for coming in on his day off. That’s what he would do. And if he fell asleep in the middle of the meeting, well, Erwin _fucking_ Smith could deal with it then.

Nodding to himself as he pulls his pants on again, Jean tells himself that’s the best thing to do. Even if he’s only managed to power nap in the interrogation room for half an hour at a time, and he’s running on fumes, Jean turns his car on, amps the heater up, lets his head fall against the wheel. His whole body feels heavy and he can tell a fever is coming on. I need to sleep, he whispers, and the warmth that floods the car doesn’t help.

Cracking a window, frowning at the sudden biting chill, Jean turns the ignition. “I’ll go home after the meeting,” he tells himself aloud, even though deep down he knows it won’t be that easy. It never was. Jean clicks his tongue, turns in his seat and pulls out of the drive, swearing up and down the entire drive to the precinct. 

When Jean pulls into the car park, the first thing he notes is the first three floors filled with cars, some of which he’d never seen in his life. The second thing he notes is a guy who ranks at least three stars above him waiting by the elevator door. Jean pulls into a park on the fourth floor, a few metres away from the door and his senior, holds his hands over the heater once more for good measure, then turns the key. Out the corner of his eye, Jean watches Levi Ackerman watch him, and tells himself it is far too early for this.

Getting out the car takes a lot more effort than Jean realised, as his legs kind of wobble and he gets a massive head rush when the cold air fills the car, but he’s up and walking. Right foot, left foot, he repeats to himself, until he’s towering over his — Detective Superintendent? Detective Chief Superintendent? It’s been ten years and Jean still doesn’t remember what this guy’s rank actually is, he’s just been around a lot longer than anyone cares to admit.

“You’re late,” is all he gets, before Jean figures he should follow Levi into the elevator, considering the guy looked like he was going to shut the door on Jean no matter what.

Elevator music fills the quiet, lulling Jean into something of a standing coma. Jean was definitely ready to let his chin meet his chest personally, and Levi seemed to notice. Or at least, was hellbent on screwing with Jean’s head a little more than usual.

“Erwin called for you especially, Mr Kirstein. I expect you’re ready to receive any and all orders?”

Jean snaps too it, but isn’t quick enough to cover the somewhat filthy look he sends Levi’s way. “Forgive me if I’m a little drowsy, Mr Ackerman. It’s my day off.”

“We don’t get the luxury of day’s off, Kirstein.”

The door pings and Levi is out in a moment, Jean tripping behind him. Jean never understood how such a tiny guy was so much faster than anyone he’d ever met, and Jean just wanted to put it down to him compensating for something. It was so much easier to think that way at — he caught sight of a clock on the way — nearly four am. He hadn’t realised how slowly he’d driven to work, trying to stay awake the whole time.

“Something has come up,” Levi finally says, just as they turn down another hallway, and through at least two doors Jean has never seen in his life. Here he thought they were still on the tenth floor, but he was starting to think he was incredibly wrong.

“Something always comes up,” he mumbles, taking note of people bustling around in a room ahead. Odd, very odd. Normally, the higher floors were empty, short of those stuck to a desk and playing basketball with paper and bins. Like himself.

“This time it’s bad.”

Jean remembers his first day of work, when there was a meltdown in the middle of broad daylight and he was sent out on a team with four other inexperienced, handpicked grunts with two guys who’d been working far too long. Only two of the newbies had survived, and he always remembers that when Levi says something is bad, he’s not fucking around.

“Can I ask what happened, sir?” 

Levi turns, sending Jean a look over his shoulder. There’s no feeling behind it, at least, none that Jean can feel, and he doesn’t take any immediate offence to it. “Not here, Kirstein.”

That bad, he muses, and Levi finally slams open a door that’s never existed as far as Jean had been aware. Honestly, he didn’t even know which part of the building they were still in, unless that was the point. Confuse the shit out of him in an already sleep deprived state so he wouldn’t tell a soul. Typical actions from the brass. 

“Sir,” he greets, as he sees Erwin Smith sitting at the head of a table. Walking around to what he assumes is his seat, Jean greets Connie Springer, who had been the only newbie to last with him that first day. Doing a headcount, Jean spies Petra Ral, Mike Zacharius, even Hange Zoe, and several other faces he’s never seen before. Sinking into his chair, Jean wonders what the hell happened.

“Now that we’re all here, we will begin.” Erwin stands as he speaks, and motions to someone — Nanaba, Jean reads the name tag as they pass by — who hands out folders to everyone in the room. Behind Erwin, a screen drops, powerpoint lighting the room in a dull blue. Jean’s eyes burned and he knew it was going to be a long one.

“If you would all open the folder to the first page.” No talk, only the rustling of papers. This is why Jean hated meetings with all the Important People, they were never any fun. He only manages to glance at the profile before Erwin starts talking again. “As you can see before you, we have collected all the information,” on screen, several faces pops up, “on a group who are the cause of a meltdown in the outer city on April fifteenth, at oh-six-hundred. They’ve been laying low since then, and managed to slip our attention in the last two months.”

Jean has a moment to wonder who got fired for that, as he flicks through the rest of the profiles. Poor guy, he thinks, as he skims through the last report from a N. Tius.

“Likely, many of you would assume that we fired the person who lost contact.” And Jean flinches. He forgot the number one known fact: Erwin Smith was a fucking mindreader. “But that is far from the truth.”

And then, Erwin skips a few slides ahead. Collectively, the room gasps, as who Jean assumes is — or _was_ — N. Tius was literally in pieces on screen. Jean had seen some things in his line of work that he would never forget, as would most people in the room attest to. But seeing a man torn to shreds like a knife through butter was something else. He thanked whoever was up there that he hadn’t been anywhere near the scene.

“Mr Tius was unfortunately found last night, as he managed to hold on enough for Mike to find his corpse. However, we are under the impression Mr. Tius is not the first, nor is he the last to end up this way. Whilst it is an unfortunately normal thing for people in our line of work to go MIA on missions, as with Ms Langnar a few years ago, we are under the impression those responsible have done this before.”

Jean recalled the Langnar case. What she found was invaluable to their line of work, but Jean also remembered how they found her remains, and where. He felt sick, and hoped he’d be at least able to phone his mother before ending up like that.

Erwin handed over the control to Levi, who pulled up all the faces at once. Committing each and every face to memory, Jean tried to not let Erwin’s pacing distract him. At least he was definitely awake now, gross discoveries and all.

“The faces on the screen are those we believe to be responsible for the meltdown back in April. Also responsible for Mr Tius’ unfortunate end. Remembers their names, remember their faces.”

Slowly, whispering began to build. Jean receives a nudge to his side and turns to see Connie looking paler than ever. Connie was never good with gory things, and more often than once had to excuse himself when people got splattered. Honestly, Jean didn’t blame him, and knew he too was looking a little greener than usual.

“Jesus Christ,” is all Connie gets out, before Levi calls for quiet again.

Making a face at Connie, Jean turns back, and flicks to the back pages of the file. More profiles, he inwardly groans. He was only so good at remembering things, and he wondered if he should tell them that at whatever time it was now, it was not the best time.

“The last few files are people we know that this group have got their hands on.”

“You know, sir?” someone pipes up from the back of the room. Jean is definitely one of the few people who swivels in his chair to get a better look at the guy who’s repping a bowl cut in the twenty first century.

“Yes, Arlert. We know for a fact that this group of so called ‘freedom fighters’,” Levi practically spits the words out, “have taken into their ‘protective custody’ at least five of our missing twelve operatives on this case.”

On screen, new faces pop up. Jean assumes those greyed out aren’t missing — officially — and the four still coloured are enlarged. 

“Krista!” In front of Jean, a woman he’d merely passed over stands up, hands slamming on the desk. “They have Krista!”

Whilst most of the group seem to turn towards the outburst, Jean doesn’t miss the look passed between Erwin and Levi. She’ll get pulled off the case, he thought, brainwashed to think nothing happened, unfortunately. Unless of course they thought her knowledge was valuable. Jean sent the girl another look, noting nothing out of the ordinary.

“You know this girl?” Erwin asks, voice literally just behind Jean, making him jump in his chair.

“She… graduated above me at the academy in Maria.”

All attention zeroes in on the woman now, who looks like she would rip Erwin a new one just for the hell of it. Dangerous, Jean thinks, as waves start to roll off her. Anger, pain, jealousy, a small undertone of lust amongst it all. An old lover, he deduces, and knows she’ll get thrown in the chair for it.

“I know Krista, and I can tell you now she wouldn’t let herself be kept somewhere without reason.”

“Historia Reiss.” Levi’s voice commands attention, and he raps his knuckles against the screen. “Her name is Historia Reiss, and she is the illegitimate child of Rod Reiss, who makes very generous donations to our end of year party annually.”

Slowly, the woman sits, shaking her head. “No way. No, I know her —”

“Ms…?”

“Ymir,” the woman — no, Ymir, Jean corrects himself — looks towards Erwin. “Just call me Ymir.”

“Ms Ymir. You were brought in especially from another department for this case because of your connections to Ms Reiss.”

Jean had to congratulate her on at least missing out on brainwashing, even if that would’ve been the easy way out. But it piqued his interest. Connie sent him a look out the corner of his eye, and Jean just had to shrug. Outside his floor, Jean honestly didn’t know how many other departments were working here, or what for. He just handled the occasional meltdown, maybe one or two walkers. That’s all.

It’s all he’d done for years.

“In fact, most of you have been brought in for that reason.” Erwin straightens, hands behind his back, clasped and imposing. “You all hold some connection to these people who have been taken, and whilst this is against protocol,” Levi rolls his eyes at that, “we’ve never truly operated to protocol. We believe that the knowledge you hold towards these people will be able to allow you to bring them home easier. You know how these people think, work, breathe.

“We need to bring these people home, as soon as possible. They hold valuable information, and we do not want it falling into the wrong hands.”

Jean had to wonder if he knew any of the people, as he eyed the screen. Historia Reiss, Annie Leonhart, Isabel Magnolia and Bertolt Hoover. A strange group of people, by any sorts. But, then Jean noticed it.

“Sir, you said there were five missing people. Who is the fifth?” he speaks up, just as Erwin opens his mouth.

“We were just getting to that, Kirstein.”

Levi is the one to chide him, and there’s a snigger from Connie which has his cheeks burn. Kicking Connie’s chair, Jean turns back to see Erwin staring at him, not looking away when Jean raises an eyebrow.

“The last person we know is missing was only taken from his home a few days ago. And, he’s quite possibly the most unstable.”

Taking up the screen from top to bottom, is a face Jean wishes he didn’t know. Age had been kind to him, whilst he didn’t hold that wide-eyed look so much anymore, Jean knew that smile even if he only ever saw it once more in his life.

“Eren,” he breathes, remembering a smaller boy with far too many bully-induced bruises, bright eyes that always changed with his mood, and sun-kissed skin despite the need to stay indoors. Jean remembers a heartfelt promise that he never returned, and wonders what Eren would think of him now.

“Eren Yeager,” it’s Hange who's speaking now, pushing up her glasses as she steps to the front. “We’ve kept him off the books, which is really unfortunate in a sense because of what he could achieve, but that’s not enough to stop people taking him in the middle of the night.”

A video plays, and Jean hears his heart hammer in his ears as he watches Eren sleep, rolling over only twice. 

“Jean, you’re leaking,” Connie whispers, and Jean clams up in an instant. Ymir sends them both a strange sort of look, and a girl across the table fixes Jean with a stare that makes him shift in his chair. Making an apologetic face at all three of them, Jean focuses back onto the screen. Too close, far too close. Get it under control Kirstein, he chides himself. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to have a meltdown of his own now.

The video keeps playing, and instantly there’s action, a door exploding and it’s not Eren’s fault. Eren fights, but they’re on him with needles and ropes, pinning him down as they inject god-knows what into his system. It must’ve been a decent dose, as Eren hits the floor face first. Jean knows he doesn’t react to anaesthetics, and he hopes that anything mixed doesn't have adverse reactions on Eren.

“Where was security?” the girl from across the room speaks up, as everyone watches the group drag Eren from the room.

“All killed,” Hange responds without missing a beat, closing the video when it ends. “All the way down to the fourth floor basement, every single security member was killed.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Connie murmurs, laying his head on the table. 

Murmurs explode again, a nervousness following them now. There was only so much Jean could handle, and knowing that mass murderers were going around stealing people was not something he could think about before a morning coffee, or at least four hours sleep. Oh god, he was so tired. None of this made sense.

“What do they want?” someone at the back finally asks. It’s bowl cut again. Jean wonders how that guy could be so awake at this time of morning.

“They haven’t made their intentions known, but we’re putting it down to terrorism.” Hange receives disapproving looks from every superior officer in the room, but she’s clapping her hands and smiling like they hadn’t just witnessed arson, murder and jaywalking. Except no one makes a move to correct her. At all. Jean honestly believes everyone’s fucked and it’s time for bed.

Clearing his throat, Erwin motions for the screen to be turned off, and the dimmed lights begin to get brighter. Jean squints despite the somewhat gentle approach. “In four hours, you’ll each be assigned to teams with an appropriate leader. From there, you’ll be detailed what your orders are, and how you’ll go about them. You’ve all be handpicked for showing excellence in your field, and we expect nothing but the best you can give.”

I’m fucked, Jean thinks, I’m so fucked.

“Please take the files into the next rooms to study them, and then leave them to be destroyed. There is no way for them to be removed from the premises, if that is your intention.”

And then, they’re dismissed, just like that. Jean thanks everything above that it’s over, and it’s time for sleep, and breakfast, maybe even a marathon of _Friends_ if it’s still playing. Reports later, he tells himself, as he follows the crowd out the door. Freedom.

“Can Kirstein, Springer, Ackerman, Arlert and Ymir please stay behind.”

Too soon, Jean nearly cries, hanging his head. He was just about ready to submit himself to the cleansing experience of brainwashing if it meant he could have his damn day off. Falling back into his chair that was still warm, he swivels a few times. Sharing a pained look with Connie, he shuffles his ass forward until he’s slouching as much in his chair as he could. I want to die, he thinks, as he considers taping his eyes open. Everything hurt, and he was so confused about, well, everything else. 

They’re waiting for the last of those in the meeting to file out, and for Erwin to return. Jean stops himself from thinking Eren when Connie sends him another elbow aimed at his gut. Catching the somewhat interested look Hange sends him, Jean takes a deep breath, and imagines nothing. No feelings, just emptiness. He repeats it a few more times, until the doors are shut and locked, shutters drawn, chairs pulled in close. 

Sitting up, Jean opens his eyes and feels that strange sense of calm he’d become accustomed to, but never appreciated. He missed the anger, the passion. Eren had always brought those emotions forward.

“You five are assigned to finding these people personally, and getting them out.” Levi doesn’t dick around with fancy words like Erwin, cutting straight to the chase. “We don’t have much time at all, as we believe the bodies of Tius, Zeramuski, Eibringer, Rheinberger and Hannes were simply warnings.”

Jean blinks, slowly coming to an understanding that Levi practically confirmed the higher ups had been withholding information. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, Jean hisses under his breath, sinking into his chair. No going back now, _fuck_.

“We cannot let anyone of these five die, under any circumstances. The fallout would be like having someone shit down your throat for the rest of your lives.

“In four hours, we’ll meet back here again to determine just how we’re going to get this lot out alive.”

That’s as close to a dismissal as Jean believes he’d ever receive. Neither Erwin, nor Hange, nor Mike, seem intent on adding anything to Levi’s short but pointed threat of ‘be here or suffer the consequences’. Just how they were all relevant to the mission beyond knowing the targets (which was totally against all the rules Jean had ever seen in his life) was so far above his mental operating capacity. Instead, he just nods mutely, and follows Ymir out the door, maintaining slow even breaths, no betraying thoughts.

When they’re down a hallway that Jean finally recognises, he turns to Connie with a sad sort of look. “We’re totally fucked, aren’t we?”

Connie just laughs, and slaps Jean on the back. “We were fucked when we got assigned to this place, Jean. We’ll deal with it like we always do — drinking our sorrows away once we’re done.”

Finally, Jean laughs, ignoring the hollow sound. The blistering cold that waits for them outside definitely wakes him up, and he waves goodbye to Connie ten parks down. Whilst he had thought to catch Ymir, or Ackerman, or Arlert on his way out, Jean decided against it. Too much talking for the morning. Too many questions about who they knew or what they knew or why they were all there.

Instead, he turns the heater up and waits for the car to defrost. Reaching into his shirt, Jean’s fingers close around a warm, metal object, and he sighs as he brings it into the light. Eren’s key glints back at him as the sun rises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM STARTING ANOTHER ONE BC I AM WEAK AND yknow w/e  
> please enjoy it is 2.30am and i have not reread apologies for errors let me know if there's something wrong i will reread when i wake up  
> also idk if i mentioned this on my other fic but hmu @ elyun on tumblr talk erejean to me  
> edit: its 9am and i've fixed up whatever i read. all good now i think


	2. Chapter 2

**fear [feer] (noun)**

**1. anticipation of the possibility that something unpleasant will occur**

 

Despite getting maybe an hour or two in after the impromptu meeting at ass o’clock in the morning, Jean toddles his way back into the building, nursing a coffee as if it was the only thing that honestly made sense. And it really did, because the building was practically _alive_ , for the first time in years. Deep, shuddering groans rose from the floor and continued all the way up as he waited for the elevator to reach his floor. Pressing a hand against the wall, Jean could hear the clockwork _tick tick ticking_ along, new life breathed into old cogs.

To be perfectly honest, it was damn near frightening, and Jean was not above just about running down the hallway to make it to the — hopefully — safe meeting room. Since he had started at this place years ago, the rumours were that when the building came to life, people were going to die. Jean had never been a big believer in superstitions, but considering what happened the last time he could hear the walls talk, this wasn’t something he was going to overlook. 

“Is this normal?”

And Jean jumps six feet in the air and pulls a muscle in his leg as he comes down at the quiet voice, that appears somewhere near his left arm. Wincing and groaning and Jean can feel his cheeks _burn_ with embarrassment as, through watery eyes, he spies good ol’ bowl cut. Bracing himself on the wall, ignoring how it feels like its crawling under his skin, Jean tries to smile in greeting, but he knows its a grimace just from the apologetic look sent his way.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just tried to call out to you and you didn’t hear me I think, I’m so sorry is your leg okay do you —”

Holding up a hand, Jean gives his leg a good shake before righting himself, trying very hard not to completely fall into a heap. Maybe he was going to die of shock before getting out into the field. 

“It’s fine, my bad. Should’ve been paying attention,” Jean trails off, as he practically limps into the room. They’re the only one in the room, and with the way bowl cut was wandering after him, it was not Jean's most preferred situation. 

Jean sits at the chair furthest from the door, puts his head on the table, and promptly tries to catch at least ten minutes in, before Connie or that Ymir or _someone_ with far more power than Jean had in his entire body tried to wake him up. 

“Do the walls always talk?”

Rolling his head in bowl cut’s direction, Jean cracks one eye open, and tries very, very hard not to glare. “What?”

Apparently, bowl cut also passed as a squeaky toy. Maybe he wasn't expecting Jean to actually respond. “The walls.”

“What about them?” 

Bowl cut seemed somewhat frightened of the walls, the way he kept edging towards the table. Jean had to wonder how old the kid was. In Jean’s expert opinion, the kid could probably pass for a twelve year old well into his forties. “They’re alive.” 

“The whole damn building is alive.” Let me sleep, Jean thinks, and shuts his eye once more.

“Doesn’t that worry you?”

Nope, not getting out of this one, Jean sighs to himself as he sits upright again, waiting for the world to right itself before he even thinks about opening his eyes once more. “Yeah, it does. Especially when it means someone is gonna die.”

Had Jean been anymore malicious, he might’ve enjoyed the look of absolute fear on bowl cut’s face. Except, it sent a shot of anxiety down his spine too, and he could feel it amplify tenfold as he breathed. Exhaustion was hampering his ability to stop it dead in it’s tracks, and the room got a lot darker, smaller, quieter. Absolutely terrifying.

Jean had never been more thankful for Connie’s existence, as he slammed the door open like the world wasn’t just about to end. “Jean! You _are_ alive!”

Connie comes in like a warm breeze towards the end of winter, lighting the place just enough that Jean can breathe. Slowly, he can feel himself warm, relax, release. Bowl cut visibly relaxes as well, and as Jean blinks the colour returns to the room. A hand comes down on his shoulder, as if to centre him, and Jean releases a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“I’m good,” he mumbles, an effort to get Connie to let him go. When he does, Jean thinks about being completely and utterly empty. Nothingness. How much he hates this zen bullshit that he was practically ordered to go through a couple of years ago and just goddammit he can’t take this anymore not when the walls are talking.

“Stop freaking out the new kid, Jean, he’s scared enough as it is.” Connie is all about the big talk tone and it does nothing but put another nick on Jean’s bullshit metre.

“I’m not freaking out!”

If bowl cut wasn’t freaking out before (what a fucking _liar_ ), he was now, having Connie and Jean both stare at him. He’s the fidgety sort apparently, but he holds Connie’s gaze pretty pointedly and Jean kind of likes that a lot. It’s refreshing. Most people these days avoided .

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” Connie laughs, but there’s not a hint of malice. Impressed. That’s what rolls off Connie in waves and Jean absorbs it like water to paper towel, only to press it forward, an effort at making bowl cut _stop shaking like a leaf_.

Eventually, his hands settle back on the table, thin fingers, perfectly filed nails. Jean spotted no nicks or marks that would suggest intense hard labour like fieldwork, but he spotted the thin trail of a scar running along the inside of bowl cut’s wrist. It took everything to make sure Jean didn’t betray any outward signs of knowing, especially when he caught bowl cut just barely drag his sleeve down enough to cover it.

“I’m Jean Kirstein, by the way. Jean is fine.” He’s speaking as he drags his eyes from bowl cut’s fingers, meeting him at a cautious gaze. “You been to this floor before?”

“No. Normally I’m in the lower levels.” Pause, and he’s slow to keep going. It’s not just caution anymore. “I’m Armin Arlert. Security clearance level five. Pleasure to meet you.”

Connie holds his hand out as a greeting, all smiles. “I’m Connie Springer. Nice to meet you, new kid.”

It’s a mixed blessing when the door opens then, as in piles the rest of the team, plus Levi and Mike. Ymir settles into a seat at the back, looking very, very disinterested in whatever was going on. A mask, Jean noted, as the tension in her shoulders seemed to set Armin on edge almost immediately. Ackerman remained as cool as a cucumber, opposite Jean once again. He didn’t miss the look shared between her and Armin, a barely there knock of hands. 

Jean isn’t given much time to ponder on the movement, short of relating it to why they were all gathered anyway, when Mike drops a set of files on the edge of the table. It’s the second time that day that Jean had jumped out of his skin at a sudden movement, and it’s a nudge from Connie that sets him back right. I need sleep, he thinks, a day off. Death. The walls groaned in agreement.

“There’s been a change of plans. These are for you to review later. Right now, your instructions are simple: act as you have always. When you return to your respective areas, you will each have cases to work.” 

More work. Jean wants to laugh. But he manages to push it down to absolutely nothing but pure exhaustion, and debates taking a quick nap in the interrogation room on his floor before setting out. Connie would watch for any superiors to make a surprise announcement anyway.

“Is this because of the rumours we’ve been infiltrated, sir?”

All at once, it was like the air was sucked out of the room. Jean sent a very, very curious stare Armin’s way, who, despite the flush of embarrassment, maintained an even stare. Levi remained impassive, and Jean could just barely feel the hint of anger. Not directed towards Armin. Someone else. Armin’s superior. _Hange_. 

Jean had to wonder if this was the kidnapping of Eren that Armin was talking about, or something else. Clicking his tongue, Jean had to wonder regardless why a kid with level five clearance was allowed to hear that sort of thing. It was more than Jean had been privy to for sure on his level three clearance. Knowledge of that sort would get a man killed. Judging by the looks Mike was sending Armin’s way, he just might.

“Yes. We have reason to believe that what happened in the lower basement was planned well ahead of it’s time. Hence why we changed the guard schedule earlier that day. Although it didn’t change anything.” Levi doesn’t fuck around, and the pain of loss is clear well on his face before Jean can even feel it. It’s heavy and tired, resignation almost, followed by a need to change.

“That is not what we are here to talk about however. You have two hours to run through these files, and discuss amongst yourselves the targets. Return to your floors immediately after. You will be notified when we are to meet again.”

Levi likes his disappearing act just as much as Erwin likes his appearing one. Mike closes the door gently behind them, and Jean has to appreciate that, at least. Except Ymir is already darting _over_ the table for the top file, then the next, and then one more, until she seems to find the one she wanted. 

“So, how do you know Ms Reiss?”

Jean wonders if Armin knows when to stick a sock in it, because he’s likely to get an arm torn off. Especially when Ymir rises to the bait, hackles raised. Ready to bite. Jean watches the way her muscles bunch and tighten under her thin white shirt, and notes that he has seen that quite personally before. “Her name is _Krista_.”

“Sorry… how do you know Ms _Krista?_ ”

Connie is struggling to muffle his laughter as Ymir glares like her life depended on it. “Like I said earlier: she graduated above me at Maria.”

“You’re only half lying.” It’s Ackerman who speaks up. She had remained somewhat quiet and distant, Jean had almost forgotten she was in the room — except for the quiet lethality that just seemed to ram straight through him, reminding him that she was real and breathing. Jean couldn’t deny it was mildly exciting, and it only amplified when she rose to the challenge Ymir set.

“Excuse me?”

“None of us are here because of relations such as ‘graduated above me’. You had a personal relationship with Krista Lenz, did you not?”

Jean wondered if he was going to get called out too on a ‘personal relationship’ but settled back enough to hopefully remove himself from the line of fire. Sliding a look at Connie, who was too wrapped up in the commotion, Jean had to wonder if he was personally related to any of the targets. 

As Jean went to reach for some of the files scattered in the middle of the table, he felt the weight of a gaze on him, and swallowing nerves at the sudden spike of fear, he peeked out the corner of his eyes. Ackerman directed a degree of fire towards him, and then and there, he knew that she knew what his personal relationship with Eren had been.

“May I help you?” Keeping his tone level, he continued to pull a file towards himself. Part of him hoped it was Eren’s — another part prayed it wasn’t. It was Annie Leonhart’s, a girl he recognised vaguely from his stint in Maria. Or her stint. They never spoke, but Eren seemed to know her well enough that she liked to send him flat on his ass more than once. If it wasn’t for Eren’s orbital existence, Jean was sure he wouldn’t have known half the people he knew today. Or had known. It was starting to get hard to keep track of who was alive and ‘alive’.

“It doesn’t matter.” Ackerman smooths her expression, plucks a file from the remainders, and settles back in her chair like Ymir wasn’t ready to pick a fight. Connie sends an elbow towards Jean’s ribs, and he gets the message loud and clear: help. Not as if he could barely hold his own emotions in check in his current state, of course. Oh no.

“Ymir,” Jean says, just loud enough for her to hear, turn towards him, and catch his gaze. Holding her there, he waits for that wistful kind of look to overcome her face. Any suspicions he had towards Ymir were confirmed in that tenuous moment, as something in her pushed and revolted against the calm he tried to push on her. Ymir comes to it moments later, settling herself down in her chair.

“Fuck you very much,” is all she says, and kicks her feet up on the corner. 

“You’re welcome,” Jean responds without missing a beat. How could he, not when his own sense of calm flared, threatening to spill over. Another one. Just like Eren. 

“I didn’t ask for a therapist.”

“I’m not one.”

“Well, you’re doing a damn good job of messing around with my feelings.”

“You’re a different strain, aren’t you?” Maybe it’s the edge of excitement in his tone that even _he_ can hear, but any sort of chatter between Connie, Armin and Ackerman ceases. Well, they were supposed to get to know each other. If Armin, Ackerman and Ymir were privy to his own problems, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to let them get away without revealing some of theirs.

“Depends whose asking.”

A grin wrangles itself on Jean’s face. That was more of a confirmation than he’d heard in a long time. “I grew up with a guy like you. He was always angry. Pissed me off.”

“And he just let you mess around with him whenever he liked, right?”

“Hardly. Kicked my ass more than once over it.”

Ymir snorts. “I like the sound of this kid. He still around?”

Swallowing his pride, Jean spies Eren’s file in Connie’s hands. Pulling it free, he throws it in Ymir’s direction. “You’d really like Eren, trust me.”

“Just pissed you off, eh?” Ymir has a small grin of her own now, as she thumbs through Eren’s file. “I can understand why. Destruction of property, assault and public indecency.”

Jean’s grin kicks it up to eleven as he remembers exactly why that last charge was splattered on Eren’s file. “Eren’s a funny kind of guy.” 

“I can see that.”

Suddenly, Ymir isn’t such a bad person. Sure, she has the temper of Eren, but the way her eyes were flicking between Krista (Historia-whatever-her-name-actually-was) and Eren’s file relaxed Jean somewhat. There was something there, he couldn’t quite place, something he had never truly touched upon. It was interesting, different. Made him want to reach out but he didn’t want to press the buttons of a strain. 

A lull falls over them, as they pass around files. Jean still couldn’t see Connie’s entire purpose, but didn’t mind the companionship. Despite his roundabout way of making his relation to Eren known, and Ymir’s obvious affection towards Krista, when he settled on Ackerman and Armin, it was like a giant question mark was hanging over them.

“So…” he starts, not quite sure where to go with the question. ‘Did you too fuck any of the targets?’ didn’t seem as appropriate as he’d hoped, and judging by the way Armin was still fidgeting, that was probably a _no_. But, then again, the kid might surprise him somehow. Wouldn’t have been the first time he entirely misjudged someone based on how they _felt_ instead of _reacted_.

“I haven’t seen Eren since we were children. I was placed specially on this task due to my relation to Levi.”

Bingo. Whilst Jean had mentioned it aside to Connie over the phone before promptly passing out, another Ackerman was something that couldn’t just be ignored. Instead, he’d just chosen to ignore it, because the Ackerman name absolutely terrified the shit out of him and if Lady Ackerman turned out to be anything like Levi — or heaven forbid, _Kenny_ — then Jean really was going to drop anything and force himself into the brainwashing unit.

“Special treatment?” Ymir was like the cat who ate the canary then, leaping on that little tidbit of information faster than Jean could blink.

“I think we all have received special treatment, in all honesty.” 

“Nothing from familial relation, though.”

Armin pipes up then, doing his job of breaking up the argument once again. “I knew Annie.”

“Girlfriend?” Connie is the one teasing now, taking over Ymir’s job.

“No, I was supposed to kill her.”

Oh, Jean thinks. Oh no oh no oh no. Just looking at Armin was enough to tell him that a level five clearance meant something else, from the way Armin’s knuckles went white from clenched fists, how he focused on the photo in front of him. Jean lapped up the flow of regret, pain, suffering, anger, more than he realised. It was like a flowing dam, just hurt, at the core of it. Betrayal. Another kind of emotion he related to, but at the same time was distanced from. It wasn’t his personal feeling.

“My first assignment was to convince her to come home. My second one was to kill her. I failed both, and got reassigned to the basements with Hange as punishment. I… fucked up. I fucked up so bad.” 

“And now you have to rescue her,” Ymir sighs. “Sounds like one of those cheesy romance novels.”

Jean catches the wince. No, Armin’s previous orders still stand. That set in his shoulders tell Jean just that. Well, he mused, they were referring to their supposed captured as ‘targets’. That was more than enough to make him curious. ‘Bring them home, or kill them’. Now, that hadn’t been officially stated, but Jean wouldn’t believe anything otherwise at this point. It made the most sense, out of all the bullshit he’d had to wade through to get to that point. The personal relations still made no sense, but having disinterested parties like Connie confirmed that if they couldn’t do it, he had to. 

Around him, the entire room shook, as if confirming his thoughts. Fantastic, he tells himself, as if I’m going to be able to kill Eren Yeager. “I need a coffee. Or six,” he groans, head dropping onto the table. 

“Same here,” Connie sighs, slumping in his chair. “And I don’t even know any of these guys.”

Jean just laughs, because he’s reached the peak of his exhaustion, and no emotion in the room was helping him along in the slightest. He couldn’t even sap Connie clean, as fear at the unknown ate away at Jean’s gut instead. And just for good measure, there was a last three ticks from the wall, before they fell silent once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh here's an update months later i'm so sorry i kinda had stuff on then forgot and am gonna pump out a few more chapters in the next few days bc whoops my bad. if there's any grammar problems or w/e in this i'll edit in the morning bc its 1.30am again and i just needed to post SOMETHING


	3. Chapter 3

**leakage [lee-kij] (noun)**

**1. _Informal_. accidental admission or escape; an undesired flow**

 

“Ready to go?” 

Jean grunts, setting his pen down, raising his arms above his head, stretching. Meticulous and purposely slow, just to grind Connie’s gears a little more. Paperwork always made Connie antsy — as he once said very early in their careers: “not enough action, too many words”. Whilst neither of them were a stranger to being in the line of fire, Jean had to admit he’d had his fill of patching himself back together just to do it all over again next week. He was getting on in age, in Connie’s opinion, and apparently Connie had to let him live a little (which normally involved crashing _another_ company car).

“So, what’s the plan?” he has to ask, at least after tidying up his desk and pushing his chair in just to drag out their departure. It’s not like he didn’t _want_ to go, except that it was now raining outside. As Jean sent a look out the window, it was honestly like the heavens had opened and were having a very merry time pissing down on all the poor people stuck in traffic. Jean didn’t want to be one of them, if he were being honest.

Connie seems to have moved on from complaining about Jean taking half a million years to leave their floor, walking ahead and ‘talking’. “Gotta go meet R-man to work out some deets. Maybe get some eats.”

Rolling his eyes, Jean catches up with ease, giving Connie’s shoulder a shove just for good measure. “Please talk like a human being.”

“You’re such an old man these days, Kirstein. I remember when you used to burn cars for fun.”

Jean remembered those days fondly. “That was generally after collecting evidence.”

“‘That was generally after collecting evidence’,” Connie mimics, as he’s mashing the elevator button. “No fun.”

“I try.”

Connie mutters something else under his breath, that Jean just chooses not to listen to. It’s probably another stab at him, but he doesn’t mind. No, taking a much needed sleep in the interrogation room, despite the awkward angle and the ever present threat of Commander Erwin Smith waltzing into the room, managed to settle him down enough to just _relax_. Focus. Work.

Even if it was still technically his ‘day off’.

Just as the elevator dings, and just as Jean takes a step forward, he feels that rush of energy slam into him before the actual owner of it did. Squeezing his eyes shut as he lands on his knees, absolutely slamming his kneecaps into the ridged metal of the elevator in the process. Hands land on one side of him, and he feels what he assumes is the person’s shoulders in the centre of his back. Jean takes one deep breath, before slowly opening his eyes to squint at a lovely set of blue eyes over his shoulder.

Blood warms his cheeks in an instant, and Jean is having an minor crisis when his eyes fall lower still. Help, he thinks, eyes darting towards Connie, now! Connie seems to get the message, in between laughing his ass off, and pulls the human battering ram to their feet. Jean is heaved to his feet next, slightly disoriented, desperately trying to shake off the blush. Connie doesn’t even try to help him contain it, encouraging it almost, and Jean wants to throttle him.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Kirstein. I mean Jean. Mr Jean…?”

Whilst it had been only a few hours, the voice was still familiar, but it did not match the man standing before him. No, the person before him was just a few centimetres shorter than himself, at most, hair pulled up something that was probably supposed to be a ponytail, and glasses. Glasses that were held together by tape and probably glue. Jean was going to assume that was glue.

Connie still hadn’t recovered, wheezing out between laughter something along the lines of “you landed on your arse!”, neither Jean nor the still very apologetic person found overly funny. He was redder than Jean was, at least. That was comforting.

“I am so, so sorry. First scaring you this morning and running into you just now. I didn’t mean to.”

Jean’s brain races to catch up, when he realises. “Oh my god… Armin?!”

Armin, or person who Jean thought was Armin, smiled. And Jean thought, it should’ve been sheepish, apologetic, something meek. But it was not, not even slightly. Drawing his shoulders back, Armin drew himself to his full height, and he was anything but sheepish or apologetic or meek. He was oddly proud of himself. If Jean were being absolutely honest right now, jarred knees and broken dignity aside, it was very attractive. Connie’s pointed look of horror is enough for him to clamp down on any leakages. 

“Hello, Jean.” He’s oddly chipper, and that just makes Jean’s awkward emotional boner harder to hide, as he catches Armin’s expression turn to one of interest. “I wasn’t quite sure what you were capable of, even after reading your file.”

“You read my file?”

At least Armin had the decency to be embarrassed about it, Jean supposed, not that he honestly minded. Hell, even he had read his own file — it was quite thick, after all. “That’s what I came up here to tell you.”

Connie started sniggering again, and interrupted the conversation with ease. Throwing an arm around Armin’s shoulder, Connie leads him into a new elevator waiting for them. “You got any plans now?”

“No, but I—”

“Good, join us for lunch.”

Sighing, Jean follows, either side of Armin, and offers his own apologetic smile. Connie didn’t let go, and eventually Armin’s protests disolved into a slight confusion, but a warmth. Jean felt it run all up his left side, and vaguely he recognised that feeling. _Happiness_. It made his heart hammer away, like it was fresh and new, and like there had never been an emotional blockage from the incident ten years prior.

Huh, even thinking about what happened back then didn’t hurt. Jean sends Armin a curious glance that he doesn’t catch, and wonders how they rounded into each other spheres now, of all times. It would’ve been nice to have had a guy like him around earlier.

“Alright, so tell me your little trick.” When they’re walking towards his car, Jean finally tunes into the conversation.

“What ‘trick’?”

“The one where you’re suddenly a kid.”

He watches Armin look down, then back up again. “I am a kid.”

Jean snorts, and loads himself into his car. Armin slides in the back, while Connie kicks his feet up on the dashboard. “No, you look like a guy in his twenties right now. This morning you were like a fucking twelve year old. Seriously, dude, what the fuck?”

“Connie, stop fucking swearing in my fucking car.”

Pulling out of the carpark, Jean notes that Armin doesn’t answer. There is no hesitation on him, like there had been this morning in the meeting room. But there was a calculation, somewhere under that humour. Careful, and when Jean looks in the rearview mirror, he can see it on Armin’s face too. Apparently, he wasn’t quite ready to give his little ‘trick’ away. Not that Jean minded if he were being perfectly honest; it wasn’t like he had revealed everything about himself no matter what was in his file.

Pulling into a carpark at least four streets down, Jean isn’t able to feel the building at the fringe of his consciousness anymore. It was like a weight was gone, and when he’s ordering enough pancakes to choke a horse, he can feel himself start to relax. Only slightly, of course, because Connie wasn’t acting as his anchor, far too excited and involved in Armin’s stories of his few times out in fieldwork.

Wait, that reminded Jean of something.

There was a lull in the conversation, and around a mouthful of food, Jean finally spoke up. “So, this thing with Annie…?”

Armin visibly freezes, and the air around him snaps cold. Touchy, Jean notes, but doesn’t let it sink into his bones. Trying to contain Armin, Jean wonders if he can tempt Armin into admit everything, but a look from Connie makes him decide against it. Oh, _now_ you want to act as anchor, he sighs.

“It was nothing.”

“It definitely wasn’t _nothing_.”

Connie is still levelling them both with a careful, controlled look. Jean wondered if he would be able to determine the exact moment when to jump in. He was supposed to, after all, it was part of his training.

For his effort, Armin seemed to be rolling around several different scenarios in his head. Just how many endings he saw was beyond Jean, but he could feel how there was no strain, no panic, as he worked through every conversation and movement. That would explain his importance — a clear head was just as valuable in this line of work as was someone of Connie’s type. Maybe even just as much as someone like Eren.

(Jean clamped down on that little spring when he thought of Eren. No need for anything to bloom outward now.)

With a shaky breath, Armin finally seemed to decide on what to say, and met Jean’s eye. “We… we were close. Maria, y’know? She was a strain and they were just so _abused_ there. If it wasn’t by instructors, it was themselves tearing themselves apart. Maria just wasn’t equipped to handle them and I… I _thought_ I helped her.”

Jean didn’t mean to pick up that emotion and run with it, but it ran from the ends of his hair to the tips of his toes, flooding him entirely. Connie looks like he’s shouting, but Jean drowns him out as he revels in it. Like an old wound was open, still tender and swollen when the weather took a turn, but it flowed through him. Warmth. Not just the feeling he had grasped in the elevator, but another kind. Softer, stronger, painful and yet so sweet. 

“You loved her,” Jean says barely above a whisper, and watches Armin’s lower lip tremble only once, before he held his head high. 

“No, I didn’t.” _Liar._ Liar liar liar. Every inch of Armin screamed liar, and Jean frowned. 

“You are all so dramatic, honestly.” Connie’s voice snaps through, finally, and Jean watches the colour wash away in front of his eyes. Could you just make up your mind whether you want to help or not? “Never have I been more thankful for not being one of you guys.”

Armin seems thankful for the distraction and, despite sending Jean a quick look at the sudden change, latches onto that little bit Connie threw out. “‘Not one of’…? You’re not—”

“God, _no_! Never,” Connie laughs, and waves over a waitress for another coffee. “I have to live with Jean and his goddamn problems. I’m so glad I never got whatever you all have.”

“Then, what are you?”

“Me? Bodyguard, mostly. Make sure Jean doesn’t go and die somewhere.”

Jean cuts in with a quick “no, you’re not,” but it goes unnoticed as Armin and Connie become wrapped up in their little conversation once more. Poking and prodding from the outside, Jean can still feel that rawness floating at the outskirts of Armin’s mind, but decided to let it go. For now. He knew when he got back to his apartment (maybe, hopefully), he had a lot to sort through, organise. Start linking them all to each other and work through it. 

There was one connection he really wanted to test, after all, now that Armin had admitted to it without realising.

“I hunt. I’m not as good as Sasha, of course, but that’s what I do.” Jean was pleased that they finally got to the bottom of it. He just wished Connie would stop beating around the bush to admitting it. Not like it was an embarrassing job in the department, anyway. Most people tended to shy away from it, which constantly surprised Jean that Connie remained with that title despite how little gore he could handle.

“Huh. I wouldn’t have picked that.” Armin seems thoughtful. He’s steeled himself now.

“I wouldn’t have picked you for infiltration, but then again, with that little trick of yours you’re probably really damn good at it.”

“It’s the glasses. People really like the glasses.” Jean thought that was a pass at humour; it had Connie laugh at least.

“Fucking knew it.”

Jean’s phone buzzes, and it’s a message from R. For a moment there, Jean forgot they had organised a meeting with him. Looking up, Jean sees Connie checking his phone too, before sliding him a look. Do we ditch him? Jean thinks, watching as Armin finishes the last of his sandwich. They had to, anyway. R wasn’t an utter fan of new faces. But then again, Jean eyed Armin. He knew far more than he was letting on, and Jean wanted to test a slight theory he had.

“Is it really the glasses?”

Armin paused, and Connie starts to snigger. “He was _joking,_ Jean.”

“Not really, but they have something to do with it.”

“Wait, seriously?!”

Connie goes unnoticed in the background as Jean continues. “We have to go meet a friend, who you’ll meet sooner or later probably, and he doesn’t like strangers.”

“Jean—”

“You want me to pretend to be small and meek to lull him into a false sense of security?”

Jean smiles, an unfamiliar feeling, and he hopes his face is working for it to not appear creepy. “Something like that.”

Connie throws his hands in the air, and continues to do so even as they walk a block and round the back of a building. Armin is smaller beside Jean, glasses away just like he’d said. It was baffling to watch as he had visibly shrunk before them, as if he was passing back in time. Jean had found it amusing that his voice had taken a moment to catch up with the rest of him, a deeper timbre resonating from a child’s body before finally getting higher. 

“If I had known that I would be doing this today, I would’ve packed a spare pair of clothes.” They had to fold his pants up, and his shoes were several sizes too big, with Armin slipping out of them every third step.

“So why did you do that at the meeting? Be all… _small_?” Jean found himself wondering aloud, as Connie didn’t seem quite as interested. Apparently, Connie didn’t take too well to people getting younger. Or was it a perception thing? Maybe they just viewed him as being smaller. Jean had heard of people like that before, and was fairly sure they had dealt with a case several years prior. Whatever it was however, Connie had a mild panic over it and was walking several steps behind them.

“I didn’t mean to. It takes a while for it to wear off sometimes.”

“Wear off?”

Armin nods, hair swinging around his head, which he blows away with a huff. “I haven’t quite got it under complete control. Staying like this,” a hand waved over his front, which Jean followed without realising (perception, he decides, after a moment, it was all perception), “for too long makes it last longer. Thankfully I had managed to find a room to… _grow up_ in, so to speak, shortly after the meeting.”

“Is it painful?” Connie finally speaks up, as they’re nearing their destination.

Smiling, Armin looks over his shoulder. “Like you won’t believe.”

Not perception? Jean mulls over it. Long enough for them to come to an apartment block that was heavily rundown, bordering on needing to be demolished. Jean hated this section of the city, reminded him too much of where he had been before he’d attended Maria.

“Now remember,” Jean starts, as he raises a hand to knock. “He’s not good with strangers. Just be careful.”

Connie claps his hands behind his back, and simply grins at Armin as Jean knocks twice. Silence on the other side, and Jean waits, braces himself against Connie because he knows what’s coming next. 

Slow and steady, like rolling thunder. A click of locks, followed the squeak of the door as it opens. Jean almost wants to tell him to oil his door, but Connie knocks Armin forward, who lets out a noise as he stumbles forward, catching their friend in the process. Explosive concern floods Jean, and Connie grips his elbow to centre him. “Fuck’s sake, Jean, _focus_.”

“You have no sleep and try to maintain everyone around you,” he hears himself hiss, dizzy from the assault on his senses. This was why he couldn’t be within the area of their friend for too long. Reiner was just a little overbearing with the emotions that came from both ends of the spectrum, and sometimes at once. 

Fucking strains, he thinks, blinking to try to see what was happening, as suddenly Connie laughs, and Jean can hear Reiner say something aside. Armin seems to have clammed up at the sight of Reiner, cogs whirring in his head as he assesses the situation. It reminds Jean of the building, and he can’t believe he brought _that_ with him.

“Jean, calm down already, Jesus.”

It’s Reiner talking, not touching him but hand hovering above his shoulder. Once, Reiner had told him that people like him would be Jean’s natural enemy. Once, Reiner had tried to warn him away from Eren. Focusing on a spot behind Reiner, Jean steadied himself. Connie thought of Sasha, and Jean let easiness flow through him. He’d never told anyone that this was how Connie calmed down, nor was he too sure that Connie knew that he knew. But it worked every time.

“You’re a mess, Kirstein.”

“Thank you for noticing.” Sharp, clipped. Almost home. Jean let himself be led in, ignoring how Armin looked around behind them before Reiner shut the door.

Sitting down on a worn blanket that he recognised immediately, Jean heard Connie fuss over him with enough insults to last a lifetime, while Reiner was quite intent to continue staring at Armin. There it was, that flicker of recognition. They were getting somewhere, slow and steady. It was just like walking across a minefield, hoping to not trip anything in the process. 

“I know you,” Reiner finally says, after Jean downs a glass of water.

Armin is quick, almost too quick. There was his inexperience showing through. Too much time kept out of the field — no, Jean corrects himself, too little time spent with _people_. “No, you don’t.”

“You were the one who broke Annie’s leg.” Statement. Reiner seemed to be trying to keep himself calm, with facts. Small facts, in the grand scheme of things, but facts. Too much ebb and flow was bouncing off him, and Jean couldn’t get a full insight into what he was thinking. But, Jean wasn’t too sure if he wanted to know.

“You’ve mistaken me with someone else,” without missing a beat, Armin responds. Jean almost expects him to walk out on them, with the way he was brimming with uncertainty, worry, anger. Ah, he realised he’d been played. 

Reiner doesn’t rise to the challenge, but he simmers. Armin is just as quiet, careful, but he’s like a spooked animal in a cage of slightly larger ones. For once, Jean was thankful he’d been able to pull someone into doing what he wanted. He knew he would feel guilty later, but the way Reiner seemed to have culled back on being straight on the attack was a positive, at least. They might be able to get somewhere with negotiations and talk. 

If Jean were being honest, it was like dangling bait in front of a man-eating monster, and waiting for it to rise to the occasion. Just, as Jean looked between Reiner and Armin, which one of them would take the bait first.

“This is why people don’t like you,” Connie mumbles, when he’s finally seated himself beside Jean. “You need to stop doing this.”

Jean doesn’t try to hide it. “This is for Eren,” he states, tone even, flat. No emotion. “And to do this for him we need to get through all these fucking people and find out what the fuck they know.” For Eren, he says again, echoing through him.

Finally, a tremble in his hand. _Excitement_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was never really happy w the second chapter and i rewrote it like 100 times before i was able to force myself to move on lol
> 
> connie wasn't joking about the bodyguard thing tbh jean just gets embarrassed because he needs a babysitter


End file.
